The Femme Magnet
by plenoptic
Summary: Once upon a time, Plenoptic decided to pair Optimus with every femme she could think of. Some of them even lived happily ever after...Chpt 2--Firestar. Elita can save her friend, but it could mean losing the only mech she's ever loved...
1. Chromia

**They Don't Call Him a Fem-Mag for No Dang Good Reason**

_Plenoptic_

**Summary pretty much says it all. Omigod a plot bunny! **

**First up is Chromia. This one's a little sad, but they'll get more fun. Promise. Please enjoy, please review.**

**In that order.**

…**That's starting to feel like a catch phrase.**

* * *

**--Chromia--**

It was incredible how fast their worlds were ripped apart.

An attack on an outpost. No survivors. A massacre. Bloody, violent, abrupt, meaningless. One destroyed outpost.

Elita and Ironhide's outpost.

They'd been their on a typical survey. They hadn't been expecting trouble; the outpost itself was full of recruits, for Primus's sake. But apparently an officer had assaulted one of his troops, and Ironhide had suggested that, because they were in the area anyway, they go check it out. Maybe straighten the perv out a bit. Elita had reluctantly agreed, just because Ironhide had been feisty and he was worse than Chromia when he didn't get to work off his energy.

Four breems after the attack, Optimus and Chromia had been contacted.

But it wasn't as if their sparks hadn't already told them.

* * *

"_Optimus?"_

"_Yes? What?"_

"…_If…if anythin' ever happens to me…"_

"_Nothing's going to happen to you."_

"_It could." Ironhide sighed, hanging his head, knuckles rubbing against his foreplate. "If they could get Scavenger, they can get me."_

"_You and Scavenger are different," Optimus replied quietly, his energon running cold at the mention of his old teacher's name. Ironhide didn't know that Scavenger wasn't dead, didn't know that the old warrior was on a covert mission on Optimus's orders. _

"_Somethin' could happen, Opt," Ironhide insisted, turning his gaze to his protégé. "Ah'm gettin' old, ya know? Ah'm not as strong…as fast…the frame don' always work righ'…"_

_He frowned, reaching over to place a hand on Optimus's shoulder. "Optimus. If they ever get me--"_

"_No, Ironhide--"_

"_Listen ta me!" Ironhide's optics blazed. "If Ah go before she does. Look aftah her. Look aftah Mia. She won' last long if Ah'm gone, but…keep her safe, give her comfort. She'll need it."_

_Optimus was silent. "Why me?" he asked quietly._

"_Because Ah can trust ya, Opt. Tha's why. If Ah'm gone, Ah know Ah can trust ya with her spark." His optics dimmed, and he turned to gaze out at the city below the balcony. "If those damned 'Cons get me, don' worry abou' revenge or any of tha' crap. Just take care of mah Mia." He turned to Optimus, optics pleading. "Can ya do tha' for me?"_

_Optimus nodded, reaching out to clasp Ironhide's shoulder. "Of course I can."_

"_Whatever she needs?"_

"_Of course."_

"_You'll…" Ironhide's voice cracked, and he turned his head away. "You'll tell her Ah love her?"_

_Optimus tightened his grip. "Of course, Ironhide. Of course."_

_

* * *

_

"_Chromia? I need to ask a favor."_

_Chromia glanced up from her data pad, carefully surveying the rose femme perched on the edge of the desk. "What's that?"_

"…_Um. I think I'm going to go before he does."_

_The trigger-happy femme blinked twice before her optics narrowed. "Don't start. Don't you even start, Elita."_

_Elita smiled slightly, unable to look her best friend in the optics. "I know. I'm sorry. But…I think the Decepticons are going to make a target of me. So I need you…if they scrap me, Chromia, I want you to make sure Optimus…"_

_She trailed off, unable to piece together her thoughts._

"_Will you just…take care of him? Don't act all optimistic and tell him things are going to get better, because they won't. If I die, Optimus will too. But he'll last for a little while. It'll take some time for his spark to shut down. He'll need someone. Please…if I go, Chromia, don't let him suffer alone."_

_Chromia stayed silent. Frowning at her desk as if it were the one pulling at her emotions. "You know I love Optimus," she said finally. "You know I'll look after him."_

"_I know. Of course I know." Elita sighed, putting her face into her hands. "I'm not scared of dying, Chromia. But I don't want to leave him behind. Not all alone. I don't want his spark to not have…" She trailed off again. _

"_He won't be alone," Chromia said softly. "I'll be here for him. Don't worry. He'll be fine." _

"_Make sure he wants for nothing."  
_

"_Sure."_

"…_Tell him I love him."_

"…_Sure."_

_

* * *

_

Optimus sighed. His quarters were dark, just like his spark. He rubbed his chestplates uncomfortably, shuttering his optics. He wished death would just come already. He was trying not to let himself mourn. He'd be with her soon--there was no need for tears. She was waiting for him…

So why was his spark being so resilient? Why did it refuse to extinguish?

He didn't want to just do himself in. Elita wouldn't want that. She'd want him to press forward until his spark decided it had had enough. His processor could endure until then.

He groaned. In some tiny corner of his being, he knew why he couldn't die--his spark still had something to do. Someone to care for. A promise he needed to keep.

It was this reminder that brought him to Chromia's quarters less than a breem later. He sighed, leaning his head against the door. Maybe she wouldn't want to be disturbed. Although, whether she wanted it or not, she was probably alone in there; other bots had been avoiding Optimus like he had the plague. He supposed it was hard to approach someone who was apparently in mourning. Especially a commander over the loss of his sparkmate.

Optimus shook his head, finding his resolve. It was now or never. He might not be able to pluck up the courage later. He lifted a fist to knock--and the door opened.

"Optimus?"

The commander froze, shocked by her appearance. Chromia's armor had always glowed, had always been lustrous and envy-invoking. Her optics had always been bright and full of fire, her frame always held high and proud. But now, her armor was dull, unwashed; her optics were dim, lifeless, and her shoulders sagged. Optimus could only imagine that he didn't look much better.

"Come on," he soothed gently, taking her hand.

"Where?" she mumbled, rubbing at her optics, squinting the in the bright hallway.

"My quarters. We need to get you washed up. You need a bigger berth to recharge on." He shrugged. "Let's try and get you comfortable, at least. Alright?"

She nodded once, her frame sagging. "Um…but…I can't…really…"

Optimus stared at her for a moment before the realization hit him. Tenderly, he moved closer to the femme and gathered her into his arms, lifting her small chassis up easily. Cradling her bridal-style against his chest, he moved briskly back to his quarters, ignoring the glances passerby tossed their way. His life had essentially ended; now his existence was centered wholly around Chromia. Around the last bot who needed him.

She sighed when he turned on the solvent in his washroom, squirmed as she waited for it to heat up. "You don't need to do this," she mumbled into his neck plating, a finger absently tracing a symbol inscribed on his chest. Ironhide had had a similar marking…

"It's no problem," he assured her gently, resting his head against hers and shuttering her optics. "You must have been lonely."

"Not really."

"No?"

She wrapped an arm around his neck, hugging him weakly. "They're waiting for us, aren't they? We'll be joining them soon. There's no need to mourn."

He smiled slightly, rocking her gently in his arms. "I came to the same conclusion."

"Great minds think alike."

"Indeed."

He stood in silence for a long time, holding her in his arms, optics dimmed, frame enjoying the feel of the warm solvent. Chromia lifted a hand hesitantly to remove his mask, dropping it to the floor. Optimus turned his face into the small hand that caressed his cheekplates, sighing softly. Her hand was warm. Not quite as warm as Elita's had been, but warm enough to be comforting.

Chromia stroked his jaw line gently, cocking her head. His face was scarred, just as Ironhide's had been. A gruff, handsome exterior hiding the tender, loving spark that lurked just beneath the surface. Optimus was like Ironhide…in so many ways. Both tortured, living with the constant agony of their pasts, both…kind. So unbelievably kind. So loving, so gentle, so caring. Both were--had been--beings composed entirely of love, of compassion, no matter what others saw on the outside.

But Optimus was lonely. Chromia could see that now, quite clearly, as she watched how the mech reacted to her caresses, pressing his face into her hand, shuttering his optics and purring softly. She moved her hand down to run a thumb up and down his throat, and he murmured something indecipherable. She caressed his helm, stroked his cheekplates, traced his lips with one finger, while he held her in his arms.

"_Make sure he wants for nothing."_

Chromia frowned--what did Optimus want? His sparkmate, obviously. He wanted Elita. Wanted her spark next to his again, wanted to tell her, just one more time, how very much he loved her.

Maybe that was all he wanted.

All he needed.

Love?

_I love Optimus. Of course I love Optimus. _Not the way she'd loved Ironhide; not even the way she'd loved Elita. She didn't love Optimus the way Ironhide and Ratchet loved him, the way Bee loved him, the way the thousands of soldiers who knew him only by name loved him. Chromia loved Optimus more than she'd love a friend and less than she'd love a sparkmate. No, not less. Maybe not as intensely.

But she could never love Optimus _less_ than she did another…

Perhaps it was just… a need. Not a desire or a lustful want. She and Optimus needed one another now. They'd always needed one another. They weren't so different, really--they'd both been left behind. They'd both been a bit calmer than their mates, a bit more sensitive to the world around them. Optimus and Chromia shared a view of the world that no one else quite…understood. They saw the universe for what it was--nothing but a large empty space filled with tortured souls, sparks searching desperately in space's black vacuum for someone to care for them. It was why Optimus and Chromia had sought out sparkmates; they were so small, so insignificant, but maybe they could do something to help.

And they were all that was left. In reality, their worlds had consisted not only of their sparkmates, but off all four of them. The war had been hard, and Optimus, Ironhide, Elita, and Chromia had formed bonds that couldn't possibly be broken. Those bonds had created a private little universe in which they could be weak, strong, vulnerable, invincible, serious, funny, sad, joyous.

Optimus never wore his mask when he was with them; there was no need to hide.

Elita never pretended she couldn't feel fear when she was with them; there was no need to be so strong.

Ironhide never cursed, made lewd remarks, or threatened them; they all knew he was really a big softie on the inside anyway. There was no need to pretend otherwise.

And Chromia had always let loose around them. Acted like a complete spaz, her mate would chuckle. But there was absolutely no need to put on a straight face.

Chromia wriggled, and Optimus dropped her legs, allowing her to stand on her own. She faced him fully, stroking his chestplates, staring down at him rather than looking into his optics. He placed his hands around her waist, brushing his mouthplates lightly over the crest of her helm. More than a friend, not as passionate as a sparkmate.

"I think," Chromia murmured, tracing the glyphs on his chest, "that if I hadn't met Ironhide and you hadn't met Elita, I could have bonded to you."

"But you did meet Ironhide," he replied softly, fingers caressing her gently. "And I did meet Elita. And we bonded to them."

"And now they're gone."

"Yes."

"Elita told me not to leave you wanting."

"Ironhide told me not to leave you alone."

They were silent for a time. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close; his arms encircled her small waist, hugging her up against his physique. It was strange; she'd never been this intimate with anyone other than Ironhide. But Optimus was okay. They accepted the fact that they loved one another on a level on which they'd never loved anyone else. Of course, Elita was still foremost in Optimus's spark, Ironhide still foremost in Chromia's.

But Ironhide and Elita really were gone. They'd shed their pain and their broken bodies and moved on, on to something more beautiful, somewhere more peaceful. A place where they could rest.

Optimus and Chromia weren't there yet. They were still in pain; they were still trapped in broken bodies. Their processors still distracted their sparks. As he held Chromia, Optimus decided that he felt no pity for the dead; he was sympathetic for those they had left behind.

"What do you want, Optimus?" Chromia asked softly, lifting her head and taking his faceplates between her hands.

He considered carefully, shuttering his optics, trying to decipher between his mind and his spark. "I want…" He wanted Elita. He wanted Chromia to be happy. He wanted to be set free. "…to die," he finished, opening his optics and meeting her gaze.

It was strange, to say that and not be sad. He was almost excited. He was going to be with Elita, and there would be nothing holding them back. No war, no Decepticons, no recruits, casualty reports, expenses, fights with the Council…just their sparks, existing together in the bliss of eternity.

He'd perhaps been dreaming of it for as long as they'd been bonded. He'd dreamed of a time when she would not have to hold his hand while he labored against his wounds in the medical bay. When they would not have to wake up in the morning to find that their courtships had not left any sparklings waiting in her reproduction chamber. When they would not have to settle for risqué intimacies because they were too tired to initiate a full spark bond, no matter how badly they wanted it.

Chromia stared at him for a moment, considering his words. He wanted to die. After a moment, she nodded somewhat vaguely. "Yeah. Me too. Elita told me to not let you want, but…I'm not so gung-ho about killing you."

He chuckled softly. "I don't really want you to, either."

"…So what do we do?"

They stood in silence for another long moment, blue optics set upon blue optics. It was strange…if she cocked her head just so, he almost looked like Ironhide…

Ironhide. Her spark caught painfully in her chest. It had never even occurred to her that the mech could die. Not once had she actually not expected him to come home. Their quarters had seemed so dark, so lonely, as she laid in the recharge berth they had once shared. She'd look at their walls, at the ceiling. Welding patches where one of his cannons had blown it through. Dents where their entwined bodies had pressed up against a wall. A slightly damaged patch of floor because their overheated frames had actually melted it.

Her mech. Her Ironhide, her sparkmate, her eternally beloved. Their relationship had been rocky and unorthodox, difficult and full of turbulence. But she knew in her spark that no femme was better suited to a mech than she was to Ironhide. They were alike in mind and spark. She was a bit more intuitive, to be sure, a bit more deep thinking, but it wasn't as though she'd always been the smart one and he the dumb. They'd been equals from the very beginning. Ironhide never did put on a show of brilliance. Most passed it off as a natural born stupidity; Chromia understood that he simply didn't want to put in the effort to impress others. Ironhide was best at blowing things up and loving his femme; he always did both brilliantly enough for her, and really, to him, she was all that had mattered.

Ironhide was gone. But she felt she still had a piece of him left. The mech, here in her arms. The first sparkling that Ironhide had ever helped to raise. The mech he'd loved from the very beginning, since long before he met his Mia.

Optimus gazed down at her, thinking along similar lines. Elita's best friend. The femme she'd partially grown up with, a femme in whom she'd confided her deepest and most precious secrets. Maybe secrets she'd never dared to confide in Optimus. Feelings only another femme could possibly understand.

**Ironhide's protégé…**

_Elita's best friend…_

**There's still a bit of him…**

_There's still a piece of her…_

_**Left here. For me.**_

He pulled her close and pressed his mouthplates gently to hers. For a moment, it was like kissing Elita; for a moment, it was like kissing Ironhide. Their arms wound around one another, the warm solvent cascading around them. It wasn't lust or desire or anything of the like. There was passion, yes, the passion that had not been bestowed upon their loved ones before they'd gone.

Optimus and Chromia weren't mourning Elita and Ironhide. Their sparkmates were in a better place, a safer, happier place, a place they wouldn't ever have to leave. Optimus and Chromia mourned the love and attention and security that they had lost, they mourned the pain they now suffered.

With their sparkmates gone, their only duty left to this world was to help each other into that place. That place where they could be with the ones they loved, in a place where they could rest.

"Come on," Optimus murmured, releasing her lips and taking her hands. "We need rest."

She blinked tiredly at him as he turned off the solvent and took a towel from its rack. He dried her tenderly, smiling at the way her armor shone softly in the dim light of the moons. Chromia fetched a towel for herself and reciprocated the attention, almost caressing his vibrant armor as she dried him off.

"I don't think we're going to wake up, Optimus," she whispered, and he smiled very slightly.

"That's alright with me. I'm not scared."

"Elita's rubbing off," Chromia murmured, grinning. Optimus dropped his mouthplates to hers to kiss her tenderly before leading her gently back into his room, guiding her to his massive recharge berth.

"I'm not _doing_ you, just for the record," she snorted. He laughed quietly, flopping down on the soft covering.

"I wasn't expecting you to. I do want you to get some rest, though."

She sighed, and her smile faltered slightly. "I feel sort of bad about not saying good-bye. To Moonracer and Firestar and all the others…"

Optimus considered. Ratchet, Wheeljack, the twins, Bumblebee, Jetfire, Prowl, Jazz…He shook his head.

"I think they understand. They've all come by to see me recently; I think that was their way of telling me it was okay to go."

Chromia thought about it, and then smiled. "I wondered why those two had come by my quarters so unexpectedly. So I guess that's taken care of…" She lowered her gaze to meet his. "And that just leaves us."

He beckoned her with one hand, and she climbed onto the berth to snuggle up at his side. Arms around one another, heads tucked together, they lay in silence for only Primus knew how long, both gazing out at the moons. Optimus sighed happily when his spark came into cadence with hers. It was like having Elita, Ironhide, and Chromia all within him at once. The thought brought him a sort of peace that he'd never before experienced.

"What was this super power that Trion wouldn't let Elita use?" Chromia asked drowsily at last. "She never told me."

"She could stop time," Optimus mumbled, shuttering his optics.

Chromia snorted. "Figures she'd forget to mention something that cool. Why wasn't she allowed to use it?"

"Drained her systems."

"Ah."

Another silence. This time it was Optimus who spoke.

"Why did Ironhide mount his cannons on his forearms?"

Chromia grinned. "When I first met him, he made me so mad that I actually rammed his rifle up his aft. He figured it would be safer if he kept them attached."

"Something tells me that didn't stop you," Optimus murmured, brushing his mouthplates against her helm.

"…Optimus."

"Mm?"

"Now I'm scared." She lifted her head to find him gazing down at her. "I mean…this is _death_ we're talking about. I know Ironhide and Elita are waiting for us, but…what if there's nothing over there?"

"There is," he responded confidently, without missing a beat. "I'm sure of it. If there weren't, there'd be no reason for us to have sparks. I know there is another side. I know Ironhide and Elita are going to be the first to welcome us there. And I know it's better than this, Chromia. I can feel it."

Chromia nodded and kissed him gently before tucking her head beneath his chin. "I'll take your word for it."

"…Good night, Chromia."

"'Night, big bot. See you soon…"

* * *

_He opened his optics. He was lying on his back. _

_Not in the literal sense; he felt, immediately, that he was no longer a machine. No longer composed of wires and gears and armor. He was something far beyond that, something far beyond any physical presence. _

_He felt warm. What was left of him was warm. He tried to examine himself, but his being was something he couldn't even begin to experience in words. He was the light, the dark, the sun and the moon and all the energy in between. Energy. A being made entirely of all the contents of his spark. _

_Where was he? It felt like nothing. He couldn't feel the surface he was lying on. But at the same time, it seemed to have a presence; he could feel more than hear a thousand whispers. Somewhere very far away, but somewhere very close, someone was calling to him...calling to every last being in the universe..._

"_Hey there."_

_He turned his 'head' and smiled. There was his Elita. It was the first time he'd seen her for what she truly was. Not a robot, a femme, but a being of incredible warmth and strength. It would be wrong to say that she had a face, a body, because she was something far beyond the physical universe, but he knew that she was smiling back._

"_It took you awhile to get here."_

"_I had a little unfinished business. Where's Chromia?"_

_Elita jerked her 'head' over her 'shoulder'. "Ahead of us. Are you ready to go?"_

"…_I don't know. Is there any place __**to**__ go?"_

_She beamed and reached for him, taking his 'hand' in hers. "Of course there is. You think I'd be here if there weren't? Wait until we get there, Optimus. Sentinel and you parents are there. They've been wanting to know what's taken you so long."_

"_What are we, exactly?"_

_His question clearly caught her off guard; he felt her waver through their bond._

"_You felt it?" she asked suddenly, and he felt her grin. "We're the bond, of course. We're our sparks."  
_

"_I don't understand."_

"_Of course you don't. You only just got here. I barely understand it myself. While we were in the corporal universe, our sparks were divided between our two bodies." He felt her 'hand' on his 'chest', and she continued. "It's not like that here. We're whole. More whole than we've ever been. We're one."_

_He touched her 'face', thinking. "Was it painful? My not being here?"_

_She pondered his words, formulating an answer. "Sort of. I missed not being able to talk to you, kiss you, all that. But we were never apart, Optimus." She beamed at him, and his spark swelled. "I was always with you. It was like watching you through a one-way mirror. I couldn't speak to you, you couldn't speak to me, but I could see you. You couldn't see me. But I watched over you. I've been with you all along."_

_He gazed at her for a moment longer before nodding. "What is this place, exactly? Where are we going?"_

_She pulled him to his 'feet', and she smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Everywhere, beloved. Everywhere."_

* * *

**Whoof. (Dies of exhaustion) That didn't come out quite as sad as I thought it would. I decided awhile ago that I didn't pity the dead. They got to escape this hell hole, right? I pity the people that have to live without them. Even if there isn't a life beyond this one, they all get to become trees and go dance in the wind :D**

**I've always liked the idea of reincarnation, too. I just wish I could remember my past lives…maybe I'll go see one of those psychics…**

**Anyway. Next up: Firestar!**


	2. Firestar

**The Femme Magnet: Firestar**

_Plenoptic_

**Howdy! :D What? New Beginnings? Er…**

* * *

--**Firestar--**

"I guess she got dumped."

"No, I heard that she broke up with him."

"Good riddance! He was really dangerous, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, I heard he hit her and stuff…"

"Came in over-energized and would just start beating her…"

"She's better off without him…"

"OY!"

The little group of femmes looked up, startled, and all grimaced upon seeing Chromia standing in the doorway, arms folded over her chest and her optics narrowed dangerously.

"Er--"

"Lieutenant--"

"I don't want to hear it," Chromia snapped, and they all fell silent. "Gossiping about a superior officer is frowned upon, ladies. You think it's _fun_ to poke your noseplates into other bots' lives?"

"We didn't mean--"

"I don't want to heart it, I said! Get out, all of you, get back to work! And none of you are to discuss Firestar's situation, ya hear?"

With some grousing and several glares, the recruits scrambled up and exited the rec room, with Chromia growling after them. Once they'd departed, she turned around and groaned.

"Not you too, Arcee!"

"I didn't say a word," Arcee defended meekly, peering up at her mentor. "I just wanted to know what had happened to Firestar."

Chromia sighed, sitting down on the couch beside her young protégé. "You could have just come to Elita or me."

"I had a feeling you wouldn't tell me."

"Moonracer would have."

Arcee grinned. "But Moon _has_ been listening to the gossip. Not a very reliable source."

"But they were?"

Arcee shrugged. "Had to get it from somewhere. Besides, Moon would have tattled on me."

Chromia sighed again. "I don't know. Elita and I have been worried about Firestar for awhile. All of her relationships have gone bad, you know? The mech's been thrown in prison, or he's cheated on her, or the most recent one…"

"Abuse?"

"Yeah." Chromia scowled. "Femme just has a knack for picking out the worst mechs alive, I swear."

They were quiet for a moment, then Arcee piped up timidly. "Was it…was it really bad? What he was doing?"

Chromia considered, but deemed Arcee trustworthy enough. She knew the little femme wouldn't spread the word. "Yeah, it was pretty bad. He'd come in completely cratered, and he'd hit her and force interface on her and stuff. But the next morning he'd come to and feel awful about it, apologize over and over again. He'd be a complete sweetheart for an orn--you know, cyber-roses and stuff, to make up for it--but eventually he'd come back in in the same state and the whole thing would start over again. I guess Star had just had enough, and she left him."

Arcee was silent for a time, resting her chin on her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. "I didn't know mechs did stuff like that," she said softly. "Elita said that most mechs treasure femmes because there's so few of us."

"The good mechs treasure femmes," Chromia corrected her. "Mechs like Optimus and Ironhide and your Springer treasure femmes," she added, making Arcee blush. "Most mechs are the same way, but there are the real rotten ones too."

"Like the Decepticons?"

"Just like the Decepticons."

"Most Decepticons," someone corrected, and Chromia and Arcee looked up to see Elita stride in and plop down beside her best friend. "There are some bonded Decepticons, Mia, remember?"

"Yeah, well," Chromia muttered, distaste writing itself all across her faceplates. "Where's that gossip whore Moonracer?"

"Chromia!" Elita cried, trying to look aghast, but a smile kept twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Don't call her that! She'll be here in a minute--oh, no, there she is now. Arcee, do you suppose you could give us a second?" she added gently, smiling down at the little pink femme. Arcee looked at Chromia, and at the older femme's pointed nod got up with a huff and departed the rec room.

Moonracer sat down across from them with grace, blinking curiously at her commander. "What's up? This about Firestar?"

"I think we need to do something to help," Elita said, propping her elbows on her crossed legs and cradling her face in the palm of one hand. "It's been one rotten mech after the next ever since she came of age. And each one has been worse than the last..."

"And what do you propose?" Moonracer inquired, arching an optic ridge. "Dating 101?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have called you both down here," Elita sighed. "I just hate seeing her digging herself into these holes. And who knows? The next mech could really hurt her."

"This last one already has," Chromia growled, but Elita shook her head.

"No, I mean…_damage_ her. Permanently."

"Oh, you mean like asylum damaged?" Moonracer piped up.

"Yes. Or worse…"

Chromia frowned. "Maybe she just doesn't know what to look for. Maybe we should hook her up with someone more trustworthy."

"Oh, good idea!" Moonracer said happily, grinning. "We could set her up with a really good mech, someone who won't mistreat her, and then she'll know what she needs to find in a mech!"

"And who do you propose we set her up with?" Elita inquired, raising an optic ridge. "Someone we know, I hope. I don't like the idea of setting her up with a stranger."

"Ultra Magnus?" Moonracer suggested. "He took me out once, he was really sweet, if a little quiet…"

"Nah, Magnus is no good at relationships," Chromia replied flippantly. "He's too introverted, he wouldn't suit Firestar at all."

"How about Rodimus?"

"Too much of a player. And he dated you, so Firestar wouldn't be into that."

"Dare I suggest Jazz?"

"He's with _Prowl_, Elita…"

"But he loves femmes!"

"But he's with _Prowl_. He hasn't seen a single femme since they got together…"

"Oh…"

"Ratchet?"

"Too old, too grumpy. Besides, he's into Moonracer."

"Hey!" Moonracer squawked, but her faceplates darkened. "I thought that was a secret…"

"It is, I'm just intuitive that way," Chromia assured her. "Wheeljack?"

"They're already close friends," Moonracer said dismissively. "Best not to push it. I think he likes her, but it'd be best to let him come to her when he's ready."

"Jetfire?" Elita threw out, and the other two stared at her, bewildered. "…Oooo_kay_, maybe not."

"Primus, you're more insane than I thought," Chromia muttered, shaking her head.

"Oh, like you're one to talk…"

"Come on, there have to be _some_ date-worthy mechs on this base," Moonracer said desperately. "How about Mirage?"

"Sure, let's hook the spontaneous Firestar up with someone who constantly has several poles shoved up his aft," Chromia snorted. "Good plan, Moon, that'll go over well, especially when she chains him to the recharge berth."

Moonracer giggled. "Oh, Primus, can you imagine?" She straightened up, adopting Mirage's prompt and rather haughty tone; "'Dear me, Firestar, this really is not appropriate--no, stop, wait--we really mustn't--'"

Chromia had collapsed into laughter, but Elita remained silent. It just so happened that she _had_ thought of a good mech. A really good mech. A truly wonderful, extraordinary mech, who treated femmes like treasures, as precious as the Matrix of Leadership or the Allspark. An utterly gentle mech, who understood young femmes, who understood tormented sparks such as Firestar's. He was kind and thoughtful and selfless, not to mention beyond cute…the ideal partner…

Elita's spark sank. The perfect mech just happened to be _her_ mech…

* * *

Elita One paused in Optimus Prime's doorway. He hadn't noticed the doors opening and was still bent over his desk, optics narrowed in concentration as he looked over a report. She stayed quiet, optics roving over him, her spark aching. It seemed that they'd been together forever; he'd been at her side since the very beginning of the war, and she at his. She'd never say it aloud, but she was _nothing_ without her beloved…

"Optimus," she said softly, and his head snapped up immediately as if he were programmed to respond to the sound of her voice.

"Elita!" he said brightly, practically leaping up from his desk as he rushed over to her side. "Lita, what's up? What're you doing here?"

"I can't just come and say hi?" she inquired, pretending to look hurt.

"Of course you can just come and say hi," he replied quickly, immediately afraid that he'd hurt her feelings. "I love it when you come in to say hi…"

"You love it when I come in for other reasons, too," she snorted, arching an optic ridge, and a grin spread across his face.

"Well, yeah…care to come in?"

"Uh-huh. I need to talk to you about something…"

He stared at her, shocked, as she came in and closed the door. "You need to talk…oh Primus, you're not--"

"I'm not leaving you," she assured him quickly, and her spark ached at the relief in his optics. _More the other way around…_ "Have you heard about Firestar?"

"Yes." Her small hands lifted to remove his mask, unveiling the distress now working his faceplates into a frown. "I'm concerned about her. This isn't the first relationship that's gone bad…and she's never been beaten so badly. He could have killed her."

"I think he nearly did," Elita replied quietly. "If she were anyone but Firestar, he would have. But anyway, Chromia and Moonracer and I have been thinking about setting her up with a mech who'd take care of her, so that she knows what a real relationship should be like."

"That's selfless of you," he remarked, his optics glimmering with pride. "I don't know if you'll find any mechs like that around here, though. Can I be of any use?"

She swallowed and lowered her head, staring determinedly at his feet. "Yes, actually."

Elita fell silent, struggling to put her request into words. Optimus waited for a few moments before making a soft noise of concern, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her closer.

"Lita?"

She looked up at him, burning the moment into her memory banks. Optimus. Her Optimus. She memorized each smooth line of his face, the ethereal burn of his blue, blue optics. The concern that shimmered in his gaze, the underlying fear. Could he sense their love coming to a shrieking halt?

On a moment of impulse she threw her arms around him and kissed him, thrusting her glossa past his lips and moaning into his mouth. It took a few stunned moments for Optimus to respond, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around her waist to cradle her against his physique. Her mind screamed at her to spark--she couldn't do this, not now--but her spark was urging her on. Her mind reminded her of Firestar; her spark reminded her of Optimus.

She moaned again, and Optimus seemed to understand that it was more an utterance of distress than passion. He lifted his mouth gently from hers, panting slightly, and she leant her head forward onto his chestplates, struggling to bring her intakes up to speed. Optimus ran a hand down her back, brushing his fingers against her thigh. She shuttered her optics and rubbed her cheek against his armor to show him that she understood. It had been a while since they had made love, but as much as she missed being in his bed, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Firestar," she began quietly, inhaling deeply, readying herself for both her grief and his, "needs someone right now. There's no one on base that suits her right now except for--"

"No," he broke in, his arms tightening around her. "No, Elita--"

"Listen to me," she whispered desperately, looking up into his tortured face. When they were in bed, she always kissed his scars to ease his fears, as if she could wipe away the bad memories; it was hard not to do so now, seeing him so hurt and betrayed. "Firestar might not survive the next bad mech. She might choose someone who will _kill her_, Optimus. Please. I'm asking you as a mech to protect a femme. I'm asking you as your mate to protect my friend. I can't just leave Firestar like this, I love her."

He was quiet, shuttering his optics. "I was under the impression that you loved me," he whispered, and her spark turned to ice.

"Oh, Optimus, sweetspark…dearest, I _do_. More than I could ever say, more than you could ever understand…"

"But I do understand," he growled, his shutters lifting to reveal his blazing optics. He pulled free of her embrace, spark aching at the betrayal. "I love you the same way, don't you get it? We've fought so hard for this, for _us_--it's not right to cut it off now! Who's to say we'll survive it?"

"I say we'll survive it," she told him firmly, stepping forward to take his hands into hers. This time, he did not move away. "I say we'll be fine. Death is eternal, Optimus, this would only be for a few orns, two or so deca-cycles at the very most! I'd never forgive myself if Firestar got hurt, not when there was something I could do to help! Could you?"

"Up until a few breems ago, there _wasn't_ anything I could do to help," he muttered. "Think of what you're asking me to do, Elita! Love a femme I barely know. I only worry over Firestar because I know you care for her, I can't spend my time trying to fix the every woe of every soldier!"

"But I know that you _try_, and that's what I'm depending on," she said desperately. "Optimus, please. If you won't do it for Firestar, then do it for me. I'm begging you. I know it's unreasonable, but this is love, isn't it? It's not supposed to be rational…"

"I'm not just someone you can loan out to whoever is having mech problems," Optimus argued weakly. "Rent-A-Mech, is that what this is?"

"It's not like that!" Elita cried. "Optimus, it's not like that at all! Firestar has been finding worse and worse mechs, she is going to find someone who will kill her! Do you understand? This could save her life, and you're not willing to let me go for a few slagging orns--"

He cut her off, seizing her and dragging her against him, pressing his mouth to hers. She struggled against him, but his grip on her only tightened, the kiss deepening. He released her mouth abruptly, holding her like a parent would a sparkling, one large, warm hand cradling her head against his chest.

"No, I'm not," he whispered, his thumb caressing her back. "I'm not willing to let you go. I love you. I don't…" his intakes hitched, his voice caught, and he blinked rapidly. "I don't want to be apart. I…I need you. You are my _everything_, my life is nothing without you in it. I love you…"

She sniffled, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him close. "I love you too," she said softly, pressing her face into his chest armor. "So much. But Firestar's my friend. She…she needs me as well, Optimus. Please, I can't do this alone. I need your help. And it'll only be for a little while," she added, her voice growing quieter with each word. Optimus's shoulders were shaking with the effort of trying not to cry. "Just until she understands what _she_ needs. And then I want you to come back…I want you to be mine again…"

Optimus sobbed, clutching her close and shaking his head, but offered no further protestations. Frag it, this hurt! He didn't _want_ to be away from her, he wanted to watch her sleep at his side, wanted to kiss her goodnight, wanted to lower her onto his bed and make love to her. He wanted to be _hers_, and hers alone…

"Tonight," he whispered, trying to stop his own tears as well as hers. "Just give me tonight, and I'll do whatever you need me to do."

She looked up at him, shuttering her optics when he bent to kiss away a stray tear on her faceplate. She felt like such a child, crying to him like this, and she was sure he felt the same. But they'd never been apart for more than a few joors, let alone a few orns…the mere thought of not spending time with him for a whole deca-cycle was pure torture, but…

When she thought of Firestar…one of her few close friends…wild, unpredictable, strong-willed but so fatally ignorant…

"If we do this now, we'll never have to do anything like it again," Elita whispered, tracing his lips with her thumb. "I know it's hard. It's hurting me too. But I owe it to Firestar, and I can't do it myself."

He nodded slowly, leaning into her touch when her hand encompassed his cheekplate. "I know," he said shakily. "I know that…if it means that much to you, I'll do it. Just for a little while though, right?"

"Two deca-cycles at most," she reassured him, caressing his face with the utmost tenderness. "And then I'm all yours again…forever…"

"Tonight will do for now," he sighed, resting his chin on her head and rocking her gently. _At least until this mess is all over…_

* * *

Firestar didn't get many office calls.

Moonracer or Elita popped up every now and again (Chromia was usually too "busy" in the shooting range), but she was almost never visited by a mech, with the exception of Wheeljack. Though, by now, she and Wheeljack were so close he was pretty much another one of the girls…

Nevertheless, Firestar was shocked to open her door upon hearing the knock and see Optimus Prime standing awkwardly in the hall.

"Er…hi," he said sheepishly, and she blinked.

"Uh, hey."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing much. You?"

"Just…coming by to chat."

"…Oh. Where's Elita?"

She could have sworn she saw a look of pain in his optics, but it was gone in an instant. "I don't know. Working in her office, I would assume. May I come in? I'd like to ask you something."

"Oh, uh…sure, sure…" Firestar backed up to allow him entrance and turned to return to her desk, suddenly painfully self-conscious of her tiny, cluttered office. Optimus was almost too big for it…shaking her head, she mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

What could the male commander possibly want with _her_? A blowjob? Highly unlikely, he had Elita for that sort of slag. A drink? It was conceivable, but Chromia was a much better candidate, and again, he had Elita. Advice on a gift? It was possible, but Elita's creation day was ages away…A report? It was entirely probable that she'd lost one that was supposed to be in circulation…

"What did you need, sir?" Firestar questioned, turning to face him and leaning against her desk. She took note of how entirely uncomfortable he appeared. "Er…I'd offer you a seat or something, but I don't…"

"It's quite alright, and please, call me Optimus…" He glanced around, and then shrugged. "Well, we could just…" He sat down upon the floor, looking up at her. "Will you join me? This isn't going to be easy, and it's much more comfortable down here…"

She stared for a moment, bewildered, but then came to her senses and managed to find a patch of floor across from him. "I've been looking everywhere for this stylus," she muttered, having found it beneath a pile of old data pads.

"Is it of some sentimental importance?" he inquired innocently, and she blinked.

"O-Oh. Well, um, sort of…not really…my brother gave it to me, it was all he could afford…"

"You have a brother?" Optimus asked, slightly surprised. Elita had never mentioned that before…He halted his train of thought. Thinking of Elita hurt, and he wanted to focus on the femme before him.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Firestar said off-handedly. "Jetfire."

Optimus stared, stunned. "…Wait. _Wait_. Jetfire is your _brother_?"

"Yeah."

"…Oh. I see. I can sort of see the resemblance." He paused, thinking, then snorted. "Your brother is a moron."

She barked out a laugh. "I'll be the first to attest to that. Hey…do you know why Jetfire is afraid of pointy objects?"

"Why?"

"He's afraid they'll pop his ego," she replied, grinning. He laughed, and it surprised her; he'd always seemed so stoic, but his laughs sounded like he pulled them right from his spark.

"Who came up with that?"

"Our mom," Firestar answered, twirling the stylus between her fingers. "It was a family joke when we were kids…"

"So he was the same way when he was young as he is now?"

"Pretty much. Why?"

"I thought it might have been something psychological," Optimus snorted, removing his mask and sub-spacing it to allow her to see him smiling. "Like his overconfidence was a way of making up for his insecurity…"

"Nope," Firestar laughed. "He really is that self-obsessed."

They continued to laugh, and Optimus found himself immensely grateful that they already had some common ground to stand on. He was a little regretful that he hadn't gotten to know Firestar earlier. She was strangely care-free, relaxed, and she had a sort of bubbly energy and aura about her. Just being in her presence made him want to smile and act like an idiot. _She's Jetfire's sister alright…_

"Anyway," Firestar pressed as their laughter died down. "What's up?"

_Oh_. Optimus's sense of comfort faded immediately, and he was right back to being awkward and sheepish again. "Oh…well…I…have you ever been to Crystal City?"

She blinked, then grinned, and Optimus once again felt a wave of contentment wash over him. "Once, when I was little. Mom took me. Why?"

Optimus clasped his hands in his lap. "I was considering going there at the end of the orn--you know, just to get away from it all. I…I'd like to know if you'd like to accompany me."

Firestar stared at him. No way. The Autobot commander was asking her out? But… "What about Elita?"

"Elita's been busy as of late," Optimus lied. "She already told me she wouldn't be able to attend. But I heard that Jazz is performing at the Dome, and it seemed a terrible waste of a ticket."

"But why me?" she inquired, furrowing her optic ridges.

"To be perfectly honest, I'd like to get to know you a bit better," Optimus said earnestly. "And Crystal City is wonderful at this time of the vorn, all of the artists will be showcasing and…please?"

She thought before shrugging. "I guess so. Why not? You're not so bad for a mech," she added, grinning, and he smiled back. "…Uh, this doesn't have anything to do with that mech I was seeing before, does it?"

He smile faltered slightly. "Er…somewhat. How about I explain when we arrive in Crystal City?"

"You and Elita aren't scheming something, are you?" Firestar asked suspiciously, and Optimus was impressed (and alarmed) by her intuition.

"We have a plan in motion, but we are not scheming," he assured her, getting to his feet and offering her his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Optimus was surprised by how light she was; she seemed just as delicate looking and feminine as Elita now that he could see her closely. So this was to be his femme for the next deca-cycle…

"What are you guys up to?" she inquired, uncomfortable with his close proximity. He blinked twice before frowning slightly.

"I really would prefer to explain after the orn, when we're in the city." He smiled bitterly, brushing his fingers over her cheekplate. "Right now, our wounds are too fresh, yes?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "Anyway. We can plan everything out later, it's late. I'll let you return to your work."

"Sure…" She clenched her hand around her stylus as Optimus headed for the door. "Um, hey…Optimus?"

"Yes?" He turned to her, his optics questioning, a slight smile dancing around his faceplates.

"…Thanks," she said slowly, and his smile broadened to a grin.

"You're very welcome. I'll see you soon, Firestar."

"Yeah."

He left, closing the door behind him, leaving her alone with her brother's gift.

* * *

**Phew. :D That chapter took a long time. Firestar will get more later--she and Optimus form a very complex relationship, so she'll get a few chapters.**

**The joke about Jetfire being afraid of sharp objects is a crack at TF Cybertron. There was an episode where Red Alert had to give them all shots (I forget why, it was so long ago) and Jetfire absolutely freaked out. They had to corner him and hold him down. That always struck me as funny :D**

**Sorry this was more Optimus and Elita than anything else...I promise it'll be OptimusXFirestar in future chapters. It just seemed like a good set up to me...**

**Next up: Moonracer!**


End file.
